To Francis, From Jeanne
by Tashii Cat
Summary: While Francis laments over Jeanne's death on another 30th May, he recieves a visit from Alfred, Matthew and Arthur. He gets agitated by Arthur's strange behaviour until the Englishman delivers a message the Frenchman least expects. FrancexJeanne & FrUK
1. To Francis, From Jeanne

The wall clock told Francis it was 5:36 in the evening but he didn't pay much attention to it or the sky turning from light blue to evening purple. He had only just returned from Rouen to visit the statue of Jeanne of Arc and to the Frenchman, she stood near where she was executed as beautiful as ever. Despite visiting the Place du Vieux-Marché every year after the statue was first displayed, it was always hard for Francis not to burst into tears of heartbreak when walking past the square which once held crowds, watching the orange flames engulfing the only woman he truly loved. And despite how gloomy the paintings depicted her death, he knew for a fact that on the 30th May 1431, it was sunny when she died; which reminded him of a saying he heard once, "The sun always shines on the righteous". Today on 30th May 2012, the weather was just as bright as it was five hundred and eighty-one years ago.

Francis mused on these thoughts as he lay on the chocolate brown leather couch; his fingers fidgeted his cross on a gold chain he always wore around his neck. He used to be very religious to the extent of being a God fearing citizen but the strictness waned over the years after French Revolution and the World Wars, only going to church occasionally. Many a time he did question his faith but Jeanne was his one reason he kept giving God their umpteenth chance. Francis let out a sigh and dangled the cross so he could remind himself of how happy he used to be with Jeanne. But before he could retrace the first memory, the doorbell chimed. He tucked the cross behind the white shirt he wore and picked up the purple hair band he took out of his blonde hair before he lied down and tied it up again. He grumbled to himself in French as he made his way towards the white front door. Can't he be allowed to mourn for someone for that one day alone? It wasn't often that it happened every year but he still considered the interruption rude. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door open as gently as he would allow himself without flying into anger. "What do you want? I'm not in zee mood to-" His expression changed from annoyance to surprise. "Oh, Matthieu, Alfred. What brings you to my abode?"

"And Artie! He wanted to visit too!" Alfred grinned his million watt smile as he tugged his messy blonde haired companion in front of him. This earned Alfred a glare of annoyance from the British man.

"Get off me! I don't need you to pull me over 'ere like a servant!" Arthur barked in an unusually nasal accent. Francis immediately picked up on this straight away.

"Does Arsur 'ave a cold?" He inquired as he cocked his head to the side, folding his arms.

"We did tell him to rest but he insisted on going," Alfred explained, ruffling his honey blonde hair. "He said he really needed to talk to you personally."

"'E does realise what day it is today does 'e not? If 'e knows what's good for 'im, 'e will go back to 'is little island but you two are more zan welcome to stay," Francis gave a cold stare at Arthur. Matthew stepped forward.

"Francis, he really needs to speak with you. Please, you have to hear him out." Francis stared at the Canadian's earnest dark blue eyes. He knew Matthew wouldn't lie about anything unless he had a good reason to and since he couldn't find one, Francis let out a sigh.

"Alright, 'e can come in but I'm not in a good mood so forgive my rudeness," Francis turned and made his way down the hallway and into the living room. Everyone else followed suit as they sat down on the couches and were instructed by Francis to wait while he made refreshments in the kitchen.

While the Frenchman waited for the kettle to boil, he thought about two things about Arthur's strange behaviour. First, Arthur didn't look ill and if he did have a cold, the only thing that was giving him away was the nasal accent he acquired. But the second thing was something that provoked Francis' interest; he didn't insult him yet. He found it odd that Arthur hadn't even gotten round to throwing insults at him but he probably would as soon as he walked back into the living room. After all, their relationship has been described as a passionate hatred for each other. There have been occasions when they have put their differences behind them but in most cases, they just argued. Once the kettle was up to boil, he dropped a tea bag in each of the three tea cups (and a tea spoon of instant coffee powder in a mug for Alfred) onto the wooden tray along with the bowl of sugar, four tea spoons and a small jug of milk. Once he poured the hot water into a floral porcelain teapot, he placed that onto the tray and carried them into the living room where his guests awaited. After everyone got acquainted with their refreshment, tension still hung in the air as Francis carefully watched Arthur sipping his tea rather cautious than he normally did.

"Th-This tea is too _hot_," The Englishman drew his lips away suddenly from the tea cup, annoying the Francis in the process.

"What's zee matter Arsur? Is zee French tea not bland enough for you?" He said in a condescending manner.

"Oh no," Arthur bought the tea cup to his lips again and took another quick sip. "Zee tea is… satisfactory." This put the Frenchman in such shock. Arthur, his biggest rival in history, called his tea satisfactory. Something was seriously wrong if he said something nice to him but then again it could be his sarcasm he was notorious for. However, Francis didn't consider this as he hastily placed his cup onto the coffee table and glared at Arthur intensely.

"If you want to mock me about today, go a'ead! I don't care what insults you 'ave planned for me but if you insult Jeanne in anyway, I will bring zee thunder on you!"

"Whoa! Dude! Take it easy! We've just been on a four and half hour trip just to see you!" Alfred exclaimed.

"I didn't really want any company, especially from zee Englishman mocking me!" Francis shot daggers at Arthur. "I'm sorry for acting like zis but you must all leave before my patience runs out!"

"Zat's enough Francis!" Arthur shot from the couch as fire seemed to burn in his emerald eyes. This aggravated the Frenchman to approach him and grabbed the collar of the Englishman's shirt.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do in my own 'ouse you ingrate!" Francis suddenly felt Matthew's hand touch his shoulder.

"Francis! Please! Stop it!" He begged.

""Matthieu, get out of my way! I don't want to take my anger out on zee wrong person!"

"You're not taking your anger out on Arthur!" Alfred stood from the couch and readied himself to restrain the Frenchman.

"'Oo's side are you on!" Francis shot a glare at the North American brothers and back again at Arthur.

"You don't understand! You're not talking to Arthur! Arthur isn't here!" Matthew gushed quickly. For a split second Francis' anger simmered before turning to the Canadian.

"What are you talking about? 'E's right 'ere!" He jabbed Arthur's chest as if emphasising his presence.

"Well… he is here but isn't…" Matthew said slowly.

"Quoi? You're not making sense," The Frenchman looked at the three men in confusion, which gave Arthur the opportunity to pull out of his grasp.

"'E means exactly what 'e's said Francis. Arsur is… somewhere else at zee moment." Francis couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why was Arthur speaking in a French accent? His immediate reaction would be that he was mocking him although it sounded too natural to be anyone trying to make fun out of him let alone the English man. (Come to think of it, wasn't he having trouble pronouncing the words 'tea' and 'hot'?) But for Alfred and Matthew's sake he decided to play along and see where it would lead.

"If you're not Arsur zan 'oo are you?" Francis finally asked even though he was slightly afraid of what name this supposed imposter would come out with.

"You may not believe me when I say zis but," Arthur placed his hand on his chest. "C'est moi, Jeanne d'Arc."

Everything froze and silence became the only thing to fill the atmosphere. For once, the Englishman had left Francis speechless. Not a single response flew into the Frenchman's head to respond to Arthur's confession. He processed the sentence over and over in his mind no less than three times but on the seventh time, Francis' right hand clenched into a fist and before anyone (including Francis himself) could say anything else, the French hand collided with Arthur's cheek, knocking him to the ground. Immediately, Matthew knelt to the Briton's side and inspected his face while Alfred stepped in front of the two ready to hold Francis' next attack back.

"What the hell is your problem dude!" He demanded. Francis' nostrils flared, his teeth clenched together in anger and both his fists curled into tight balls.

"Get out! All of you!" His hands shook in rage. "I will not 'ave any of you disrespecting my Jeanne! Not today or any ozer day! Now get out before I throw you all out myself!"

"Francis!" Matthew looked up to his former guardian with pleading eyes. "Arthur is channelling Jeanne's spirit so she could talk to you! Arthur never meant to disrespect you at all!"

The Frenchman paused and glanced at Matthew with icy eyes. "'E's… channelling Jeanne?"

"Yeah like, he's being possessed by a ghost!" Alfred added. "N-not that I'm scared or anything because I'm too heroic to be scared of ghosts!" He nervously laughed earning him stares from everyone until Francis turned away from Arthur and rubbed his own face looking pensive. The Englishman stood to his feet, not taking his eyes off the Frenchman, as did Matthew and Alfred. It was after a few minutes that Francis finally spoke.

"Matthieu, pourriez-vous attendre dans la cuisine avec Alfred s'il vous plait?" He spoke in his mother-tongue. The French sentence piqued Matthew's interest but felt confused by Francis' request. His mouth opened to ask why but something clicked in his head and instead he nodded and made his way to the kitchen.

"Alfred, lets give them some space," The Canadian instructed Alfred softly. The American frowned puzzled.

"But-"

"Alfred. Now." Matthew said with a lower and threatening tone. Without hesitation, Alfred followed but not without turning back at the Frenchman and the bizarre Englishman confronting each other. The two kept their eyes trained on the American and said nothing until Alfred finally disappeared into the kitchen. Once the door clicked closed, Arthur and Francis stared at each other intensely. At last, Francis began speaking in his native tongue.

"_If you are 'oo you say you are, you will not only be able to understand me but you will be able to answer any question zat only Jeanne and I would know. Do you understand?_"

Arthur nodded his head with affirmation. "_Of course. Continue._" He spoke in the same language as the Frenchman. There was a pause from Francis as though he thought to himself Arthur was doing well with a language he didn't speak often. But whether he understood the first French sentence was of a different matter and that this test was going to prove who's really in the room with Francis.

"_On zee night of zee 29__th__ May 1431, I snuck past zee guards just to see you for one last time before zee day of your death. On zat night, I gave you a gift in form of a poem I composed for you. If you are zee real Jeanne d'Arc, zen you would be able to recite zee poem without difficulty._" Francis said in a serious tone. Arthur responded to the sentence with a gentle smile, one that conflicted with the Frenchman's icy expression.

"_Zee poem… I remember it so well. Even as zee flames touched me, I still kept reciting it in my 'ead as it was so precious to me._" Arthur placed his hands behind his back and closed his eyes.

"_Oh sweet pure maid of Orleans, your life cruelly snatched away_

_By zee wickedness of zee foes of God._

_Your beauty, innocence and grace 'as gone from zis world_

_But zose three treasures were part of mine and as such, my world will remember you._

_Through zee songs of birds nesting in zee trees,_

_Through zee whispers of zee wind's gentle breeze,_

_Through zee warm rays of zee shining sun of gold, zee glow of zee moon of silver and zee glistening stars of diamonds; your beauty, innocence and grace shall be remembered._

_I wish for your assassins to pay with zheir blood_

_But you being zee kind soul you are would never express such a grudge._

_Dear God, 'ear my prayer and care for zis sweet maid of Orleans_

_And in 'eaven; your 'ands will protect and preserve 'er beauty, innocence and grace._

_Amen._"

Arthur's eyes opened slowly as though he had been through a memory for sometime and gazed at Francis' trembling figure. He could see the Frenchman had waded through the same sort of memories he did; the memories of her death. Francis' hands hid the tears that streamed down his cheeks. "_I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…_" Joan, in the Englishman's ears could hear Francis blubber repeatedly. Arthur's body moved into the Frenchman and enveloped him into a hug; one hand rubbed small circles on his back while the other held his right shoulder. She, in Arthur, felt Francis bury his head into the Englishman's chest and his arms wrapped themselves around his torso. "_I shouldn't 'ave doubted you like everyone else did zat time ago…_" Francis whimpered, his breath hitched in three places of his sentence.

"_Francis, you know I don't like to see you cry._" Arthur consoled in his nasal accent. "_You are a man and men aren't supposed to shed tears over sings like zis._"

"_I believed you zough!_" Francis' voice wavered. "_I knew you were innocent but it was zose general's jealousy zat you were wrongfully accused and sentenced to death! And it took twenty-five years for zat pope to pronounce you innocent… twenty-five years too late…_" His voice trailed into more sobs and tightened his grip onto the Englishman's form. The Joan in Arthur felt sorry for Francis who wept into him. He sensed all the Frenchman's turmoil in his cries. Joan could not bear to see Francis like this anymore. "_Francis, my death is in zee past. You cannot keep dwelling in zat sadness or you'll always feel bitter towards everyone._" Arthur started. "_I know you're not zee sort of person to forgive and forget quickly but if you keep carrying grudges, zey will become your burden. So when I do return to God's kingdom and zis Englishman is 'imself again, forgive 'im and to zee ozers 'oo 'ave wronged you, forgive zem too. I know it's a 'ard sing to do but you'll feel zee weight leave your shoulders, believe me. Doing zat and moving on will make you feel better._"

"_But I don't want to forget you Jeanne!_" Francis whined. "_I can't! I won't!_"

"_I never told you to forget about me Francis. I only ask zat you forgive zee people 'oo 'ave done wrong to you. I'm sure zey want to be forgiven too. Trust me, everyone will benefit if you forgive zem._" Arthur prized himself away from Francis enough to stare into his sapphire eyes. "_Now promise me you'll do zat. Look me in zee eyes and say it._"

Francis immediately gazed into the emerald eyes and he was certain he could see Jeanne in them despite knowing they were Arthur's. He knew Jeanne was right about him not forgiving people easily, especially Arthur; his long-time rival. He gulped down the lump in his throat and nodded. "_Oui, I will do zat for you._" He uttered with sincerity. Once Arthur was satisfied with his response, he pulled himself further from Francis and raised another gentle smile.

"_Sank you. I'm really 'appy zat you've said zat but if I go and you don't do it, I will 'aunt you until you do._" Francis chuckled at her threat. She maybe a Christian but that didn't mean she couldn't be as strict as she was with her army when she was alive.

"_I promised you didn't I?_" He beamed back.

"_Good,_" Arthur giggled but when he smiled again, it was a sad one. She knew that time had come and it was going to be heart-breaking for Francis. "_Now I 'ave delivered my message to you, I must return to God._"

Francis' expression turned into fear and grabbed Arthur's hand in desperation. "_Non, please! Don't go! I don't want to lose you again!_"

"_I know Francis but I cannot stay for zis body is not my own._" Arthur held his optimistic expression trying to prevent tears from involuntary showing themselves. "_If I stay, I would be crushing zis man's soul and zat isn't fair if 'e dies because of my selfishness._"

"_Zen at least don't go yet!_" Francis blurted. "_I… let me give you a gift before you part!_"

Arthur frowned slightly in confusion. "_But what could you possibly give to a spirit? When I go, zis man will be left wondering why 'e is 'olding somesing zat isn't relevant to 'im._"

"_Zis gift is not of any material possession,_" The Frenchman pulled Arthur closer to his figure. "_Zis gift is somesing you will take and treasure for always when you return to God._" Before Arthur (or Jeanne) could ask, Francis' lips locked into Arthur's into a kiss. The green eyes widened in surprise but before Arthur had the chance of breaking away, Francis broke away himself and gazed at the slightly perturbed Englishman. And then the most unexpected thing happened; Arthur smirked and asked in a teasing voice, "_Is zat my gift?_"

Francis blinked when he said it in that tone. "_I didn't want God to sink you were committing a sin._" If he didn't think Arthur was himself now; his next movements convinced Francis that he wasn't a constantly annoyed British man but a feisty Christian martyr who happened to be a woman. Arthur pulled himself close to Francis by wrapping his arms around his neck and grinned.

"_Lust is a sin, loving someone in an intimate way isn't._" This time it was Francis' turn to be surprised as their lips connected into a passionate kiss again. His widened sapphire eyes closed half way before closing fully; letting his hands drift to Arthur's waist. He couldn't quite believe that the Englishman had let Jeanne take control of his body like this and had an amusing thought, of the sort of expression he'd pull if he told him what he did while he was possessed. Speaking of which, Arthur's tongue found its way into the Frenchman's mouth. Of course he allowed it to twirl inside as the French tongue explored every inch of Arthur's mouth. He could taste the tea (and traces of coffee) as well as scent of apple.

Jeanne always loved apples and a memory of them sitting underneath an apple tree on a hill in Orleans somewhere sprang to mind. Whenever Jeanne could spent time with Francis, they always sat under the same apple tree on a day when the light from the sun poked through the fresh green leaves and the red apples. They'd admire how clear and blue the sky is and they'd talk, drifting from one subject to another and all the while Francis would always want to hold her hand and passionately kiss her like he was doing to Arthur's possessed body in the living room at present. He didn't care that he was kissing the body of his greatest rival; in his mind, he was kissing Jeanne.

His hand climbed from the Englishman's waist and combed through his choppy blonde locks with his fingers. But he could feel Arthur's touch weakening. He was losing Jeanne. After climaxing with the most passionate kiss both of them could muster, they both pulled away and gasped for air. Francis stared into the pools of green lovingly and smiled. "_Je t'aime Jeanne._" His voice trembled knowing what was going to happen next after Arthur's knees buckled. The English fingers dug into the Frenchman's arms and clung in desperation not wanting to let go. Francis lowered Arthur to the floor and held onto him as the viridian eyes met the sapphire orbs.

"_J-Je t'aime aussi… Francis…_" Arthur panted until his eye lids closed and his hands loosened their grip on Francis' arms as his body finally became limp. The Frenchman immediately grabbed one of Arthur's hands and bought him closer. "Jeanne? Jeanne?" He murmured hoping Joan would hear her name being called and rebel from her spiritual restraints. So many tears trickled down his cheeks that he believed if he cried hard enough like people did in films, Jeanne would not ignore the sadness and return just to make him smile again.

"Francis?" A gentle voice called from above. The Frenchman looked up and saw a slightly blurred pair of North American brothers towering over him. His eyes drifted back to Arthur's unconscious form cradled in his arms and waited for a response. After pausing for a few seconds, he led himself to the conclusion that Jeanne had finally returned to heaven. He didn't realise he'd been in his dazed state again until he felt Alfred take one of Arthur's arms around his shoulders and wrapped his own arm around the Briton's waist. "Let's get Arthur to the couch," The American said in a tone that was the complete opposite to his rambunctious voice. Francis wiped the tears from his cheeks before he took Arthur's other arm and coiled it around his shoulder and helped Alfred carry the Englishman to the couch. After laying Arthur down, everyone watched the unconscious form slumber. Francis gripped a piece of his shirt and fidgeted with the cross underneath it. "Did Arsur mention when 'e would wake up after being possessed?"

"He said it would take a while for him to regain consciousness but if you wanted a specific time, he said it's different every time so we don't know." Matthew answered.

"I see," Francis wasn't sure why he did what he did but he slowly lifted Arthur's head and sat down before lowering the British man's head onto his lap.

"Francis? Are you okay?" Alfred said slowly and in the same calm tone. The Frenchman stroked Arthur's hair from his face. Surprisingly he looked angelic when he was asleep (or unconscious in this case); just like Joan. At that thought Francis raised a smile which made Alfred and Matthew wonder if it was out of sadness or relief. The two brothers glanced at each other as if conversing with each other telepathically until Francis finally uttered "I forgive you". Both brothers faced the Frenchman.

"Did ya say something Francis?" Alfred asked with an upbeat tone this time.

"I forgive you," Francis' eyes still fixated on Arthur as he murmured the words. Not quite sure who it was for, Matthew cocked his head to the side.

"Forgive us for what?" The Frenchman glanced at Matthew and Alfred with a relieved expression.

"I don't know but… per'aps it's to clear sings up between us non?"

"I guess," Alfred said slowly and scratched the back of his head in confusion. Matthew stared at Francis trying to work out what he did wrong to him but after a lot of thought, he gave up and smiled at his former guardian. "Merci, eh?"

Francis chuckled at the different reactions the North American brothers displayed and already he felt a heavy weight being lifted off his shoulders just like Jeanne told him. He felt himself relax a bit before turning to the peaceful looking Englishman asleep on his lap. He brushed away a few more strands of hair thinking how similar both Arthur looked when he was asleep and how Jeanne looked when she smiled in terms of serenity. Both images warmed his heart as well as providing the reason why he's being affectionate to the unconscious Arthur; he wanted to preserve that beauty, that innocence and grace for a little while longer before he wakes up and complains about the dull pain in his jaw. Francis decided as soon as Arthur regains consciousness, the first thing Francis would say after welcoming him back to the world of the living is, "I forgive you".

!

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey! Long time no see! I've been incredibly busy with uni work which is why I haven't submitted anything for quite sometime. I've taken a break from 'Daisy Chain to Destiny' and spent some time working (and crying) on this. I hope this isn't too confusing for people to read since it features a headcanon of mine (Arthur can channel spirits and ghosts if he wanted to).**

**Also, the dialogue in italics are spoken in French and this is purely because I do not want to butcher the French language. I may be a ble to speak it but my construction of French sentences is very rusty so I wasn't going to take that risk.**

**And most of my research was done using Wikipedia so if I got anything wrong, I apologise. But I have also read '1000 Years of Annoying the French' which has been very useful and entertaining at the same time so I suggest you guys read that book!**

**This is sort of a one-shot but there will be bonus chapters that describe events before/during/after this one-shot. In the meantime, enjoy.**

**Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**


	2. Before Part One

"Bloody hell…" Arthur uttered under his breath in annoyance, feeling over the granulated grey, patterned work top. This was the fifth time something went missing when he needed it this week and frankly, he was losing his patience. However, he knew the cause of the disappearances and movement of the objects in his house; bloody ghosts. For some reason, the paranormal activity seemed particularly active from 23rd May to the present date, 29th May and as frustrating as it was, Arthur had to do something or they could he haunting him for a long time. He crawled on the floor under the table when a chime from the front door jolted him, banging his head under the table in the process. Unleashing the non-stop grumbling from the British man, his feet shuffled on the cream carpet as he made his way towards the door. He couldn't complain too much however; he had visitors coming and he was the one that called them over so he had to put his complaints to the side and pulled the mahogany door open.

"Artie!" All at once after the shrill cry, the Englishman was embraced into a bear-like hug from one Alfred F. Jones.

"Get off me you bloody git!" Arthur focused so much on prizing the American off himself that he didn't notice Alfred's younger brother, Matthew Williams, standing in the door step smiling awkwardly at Alfred's antics with his polar bear, Kumajiro, in his arms.

"Hey Arthur," Matthew greeted in his gentle whisper like voice. Once the space between Alfred and Arthur opened, the Englishman composed himself and welcomed the two into the house.

"You'll have to excuse some of the mess," he started, "But I've been having a bit ghost trouble."

"G-Ghost!" Alfred suddenly shrieked in panic. Arthur sighed. "You should really get over your fear of ghosts and spirits. It's not like they'll try to hurt you."

"I don't care! They scare the crap out of me!"

"And they'll keep doing that if I don't find out why I'm being persecuted," Arthur cut in. "What sort of objects were taken?" Matthew asked looking at the Englishman quizzically. "Today it's my keys but I have seen other objects move around by themselves. One of my chicken ornaments for example moved from one end of the cabinet to another, a postcard kept fluttering to the floor after I've put it back so many times and it took all the cheese from the fridge! Once was enough but it does get annoying when I want some on my crackers at lunchtime. So to stop the menace, I've asked you two to help me with a séance."

"Oh no!" Alfred yelled in protest and folded his arms. "There's no way I'm helping you summon the devil!"

"We're not going to summon anything you bloody git! I'm going to contact the spirit that's making my life a misery!" Arthur slapped the back of Alfred's head gently causing the American to yelp. "Ow! That hurt!"

"Good," Arthur said as he turned away from the North American brothers and made his way towards the cupboard under the stairs. "If you want to help me prepare for the séance, by all means, be my guests."

"Okay. What do you need?" Matthew enthusiastically asked while Alfred still looked unnerved about the paranormal investigation.

The house darkened as evening came and all three men knelt around the coffee table in the dimly lit (by that, it was only lit up by one candle) living room. On the centre of the wooden table sat a pad of paper and a heat-shaped, mahogany, wooden planchette held a pen in place. Matthew glanced at a fidgety Alfred who in turn looked at Arthur nervously. "I don't know whether we should be doing this you know? I mean, I heard that using one of these actually opens up a portal to hell where evil spirits come out."

"Alfred, I'm experienced in using these and if that does happen, I can close it so there's nothing for you to worry about." The Englishman gave the American a look that didn't look concerned at all. "Now, place your index fingers on a side of the planchette." Both brothers did exactly as Arthur said (although Alfred was hesitant to oblige) and placed their fingers on the planchette. The Englishman took a deep breath after he put his fingers on it. "If there is any spirits who would like to make their presence known, move this planchette." He said in a commanding yet calm voice. The three men waited for its response, staring at the planchette intensely. Nothing happened after a few minutes so Arthur began speaking again. "I know there is someone who wants to speak to us. Let us know you're there; touch one of us, move an object, anything."

"No! Don't let it touch me!" Alfred whined.

"Keep it down idiot!" Arthur hissed. "Don't scare it away!"

"You guys, the planchette!" Matthew whispered as everyone felt movement underneath their fingers. The brothers watched the planchette slowly scribble some joint up letters in awe while Arthur concentrated on discerning the message. Once the wooden object stopped writing, Alfred frowned. "Je nee comprendee pass? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He shouted as Matthew read the message again.

"It's French Alfred. It means "I don't understand"."

"Brilliant. I've got a French ghost haunting me." Arthur rubbed his face with one hand before placing the index finger back on the planchette. "I wonder if Francis accidently killed himself. Knowing his luck he might have". Without any warning, the planchette moved scribbling faster. Everyone's fingers stayed on the heart-shaped piece of wood as best as they could as they could and when it finally stopped the sentence read "Est-ce que vous savez Francis?" Matthew translated the text again. "Do you know Francis?"

"What does Francis have to do with this ghost?" Alfred looked to Arthur as if he knew the answer.

"I don't know," Arthur shot an annoyed stare at the American before turning to the Canadian with a serious expression. "Ask the spirit for their name if you don't mind."

"Okay," Matthew nodded before gazing at the planchette. "Comment t'appelle tu?" There was a few seconds pause before the planchette moved across the paper once more. When the pen finally stopped moving, Matthew's eyes widened into shock as he read the new message. "My name is Jeanne of Arc and I need to speak to Francis urgently."

"Impossible…" Arthur let out a whisper. He glared at the message in disbelief reading it over and over again in his head. On the eighth time he read it, he immediately remembered today's date. It's the day before the anniversary of Jeanne of Arc's death; an anniversary that made the Frenchman miserable and withdrawn. It was then that he knew exactly what Jeanne wanted. "Tell Jeanne to meet me in the study during the night and wait for my instructions." He said to Matthew without looking away from the paper. The Canadian blinked for a moment before translating the English message to French while Alfred stayed unusually quiet.

!

Kumajiro's pawing on Matthew's shoulder woke him from his sleep. He groaned as he slowly sat himself up and gazed at his polar bear sleepily. "Kumasaku, what's the matter?" He tried to rub the tired the tiredness out of his eyes.

"I'm thirsty," The bear squeaked. Matthew sighed and put on his spectacles before he took the creature into his arms.

"Alright, let's get you some water." He whispered and carried the cub out of the room.

He eventually found the kitchen after feeling his way around the walls, stair bannisters and other pieces of furniture his hand found in pitch black darkness. Once he entered in what he believed was the kitchen, he winced after the light illuminated the kitchen with a flick of the light switch but then jumped at a scream near the fridge. Matthew yelped as well until he gave a startled Alfred an annoyed look. "Alfred! What are you doing in here?" The Canadian hissed as Alfred shut the fridge door and turned away from it.

"Dude! Don't scare me like that! I thought you were a burglar!" He yelled full blast. Matthew had to rush up to the honey-blonde haired man and hushed him.

"Do you want to get caught by Arthur, you hoser?" He whispered harshly and glared at him through his dark blue eyes. Alfred threw Matthew's hand off his face.

"I was hungry and I wanted a midnight snack! What are you doing down here anyway?"

"Kumagiri was thirsty so I'm getting him some water," Matthew murmured and rummaged through the cupboards to pick out a cereal bowl and took it to the sink to fill with water. "I just hope we don't get busted by Arthur."

"Knowing him we will," Alfred folded his arms as Matthew laid the bowl on the floor to which Kumajiro was more than obliged to lapping the water up with his tongue. Matthew took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes for a moment before asking, "Why do you think Joan wants to talk to Francis?"

Alfred glanced at Matthew and shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno but it must be important if that…" He gave a pregnant paused and gulped. "…Ghost had bothered Artie that bad." Matthew watched the bear drink as he mused about what happened with the séance. Joan of Arc of all people (or ghost as was the case) communicated the fact that she wanted to speak to Francis… and that's when a realisation hit him. "Alfred, what's the date today?"

"Well since it's past midnight, it's the thirtieth of May. Why'd you ask?" Alfred looked at him quizzically. Matthew opened his mouth to say something when he felt Kumajiro nudge his leg and pointed to the empty bowl. "We'd better get back to bed before Arthur catches us," Matthew said and placed the bowl in the sink to wash up later in the morning.

"Dude, we're adults now," Alfred grinned and pushed the door open. "We don't have to worry about being punished by that old man."

"I wouldn't talk about your elders that way wanker," A British dialect provoked the American to leap a few inches off the floor and produce the most girlish scream he could suddenly muster. Matthew jolted a bit when he saw Arthur standing in his white shirt underneath his green sleeveless cardigan and dark brown trousers, holding a brass candle-stick holder with a dimly lit candle illuminating the three. Once Alfred managed to compose himself out of fear, he scowled at Arthur. "Don't do that dude!"

"Keep it down you bloody git!" Arthur hissed. "All three of us maybe awake but I'd rather not disturb anyone else outside this house!"

"Um…" Matthew stepped out from behind Alfred with an apologetic look. "We're sorry we disturbed you. Kumajiro was thirsty and wanted something to drink and Alfred… I don't know what he was doing but…"

"That's fine," Arthur sighed. "Actually, I'm glad you're both awake. I need you two to assist me with something." Matthew blinked for a moment. "Does it have anything to do with meeting Joan?"

Arthur nodded affirmatively. "Yes, and I need you to translate for Jeanne and myself amongst other things but I'll explain those later. Please, follow me. You too Alfred." He turned towards the door with a tree carved onto it and took a key from his pocket and pushed it into the lock. He twisted the door knob and pushed the door open and gestured waved the brothers to follow behind.

Matthew knew exactly what room he was about to enter as he began his decent down the stairs with Arthur; he called it the 'occult room' (or "the room with all the scary ghosts" according to Alfred). His hand gripped the bannister and squeezed Kumajiro closer to his side with his other arm while Alfred fidgeted nervously in between them both (more than likely he didn't want to get left behind in the darkness). Matthew was afraid that taking his eyes of Arthur would result in his getting lost in the darkness until finally they touched on solid ground but he along with Alfred still followed the candle-light in Arthur's hand.

The Englishman placed the candle stand on the table that stood in the middle of the room and turned to Matthew. "I want you to tell Jeanne to give us a sign of her presence, anything that can tell us she's in this room with us," Arthur inquired. Matthew hugged his bear to his chest and nodded.

"Si vous êtes ici, nous donner une sorte de signe. Déplacer quoi que ce soit dans cette salle." They waited for a moment or two before the chair screeched across the wooden floor slowly and slightly. Alfred's teeth chattered and whimpered as the chair came to a stop. Matthew thanked the ghost in his native tongue and turned to Arthur.

"Right Matthew, I'm going to tell you the plan and I don't want you to be too alarmed about it, understand?" The Canadian nodded his head before Arthur continued. "I'm going to place myself in a trance and in doing so; I'll let Jeanne possess my body so she can talk to Francis directly."

"Wait! You're going to let a ghost control you!" Alfred yelled. "Don't do it! I don't want a ghost using your body to scare me- I mean Matthew!" Matthew shot an annoyed look at his brother before turning back to Arthur.

"You mean… you're going to channel Jeanne?"

The Englishman nodded his head. "I am but in order for me to achieve this, I will require absolute focus which means," he turned to face the brothers, "I must have absolute silence. I can't channel her if you're going to make some noise." He directed his gaze at Alfred knowingly, which provoked an exclamation of the American.

"Why are you looking at me for?" He shrieked thus proving Arthur's point before it had been made. Arthur sighed and glanced between the two again.

"If there is a slight possibility that I turn violent for whatever reason, I give you permission to knock me out for everyone's safety, understand?"

"Okay, whatever you say," Alfred said while Matthew simply nodded.

"Good," Arthur turned away from them and lowered himself into the chair, his arms resting at the arm rests. "Oh, and one last thing; do stop me from doing anything I'll regret when I return to myself."

"Will do!" Alfred saluted him as though Arthur was going away on holiday. Matthew hugged his bear closer to him in prevention of him escaping and distracting the Englishman who gave them a confident nod.

"Now, without further ado, I'm going to begin so no disturbing me from this point on." He said and gazed into the flickering orange flame on the candle that stood on the round table in front of him. Both brothers watched Arthur in bemusement and almost became entranced with the light themselves. Matthew could certainly sense the Englishman's breathing rate slowing down just by the movement of his chest. He knew that any type of meditation required a lot of deep breathing and other techniques that he was unfamiliar with but it was fascinating how Arthur was doing it.

Within two minutes, Arthur's eye lids closed and hung his head forward as though he fell asleep instantly.

Five minutes after the Englishman shut his eyes, Alfred and Matthew sat against the wall underneath a window. Kumajiro snoozed in the Canadian's arms while Alfred fidgeted with his fingers nervously and looked around the room warily in hopes no evil spirits would ambush them from nowhere. Matthew watched his brother with a tired expression and wondered how he was the older brother out of the two when he acted like a child. He knew Alfred had always been afraid of ghosts and paranormal activity but he can't think why Alfred wasn't scared of aliens. Surely if he has a phobia of ghosts that aliens would instil him with the same fear; it was practically a contradiction in Matthew's mind. He let out a sigh at that thought and turned to him. "Are you okay Al?" He whispered and took a quick glance at Arthur making sure he didn't disturb him. Alfred jerked out of his uneasiness and snapped his head to face Matthew.

"I'm fine!" He laughed loudly. "Nothing's wrong with me bro!"

"Then why are you being so loud?" Matthew rolled his eyes. "You only do that when you're nervous or scared."

"I do not!" Alfred barked back not realising he was doing exactly as the Canadian predicted.

"Well so far you're proving me right," Matthew raised his voice to normal talking volume and folded his arms across his knees.

"Well what about you, huh!" Alfred jabbed his finger on the Canadian's arm. "I bet you're getting freaked out too by all this ghost business!"

"I'm not," Matthew said in a nonchalant tone. "You're the one shrieking like a banshee when Arthur specifically said he needed silence to concentrate. I wouldn't be surprised if he woke up now and told you off."

"It's not my fault I'm loud! That's the way I am!" Alfred's yells continued. "And I am not freaking out over a little ghost problem!"

"What on earth are you two fully grown men arguing about?" A new high pitched voice entered the argument. That voice activated a girly scream from Alfred and Matthew being hugged by his boa constrictor like grip. The Canadian had to prize the whimpering American of himself in order to find some air in his lungs again. Matthew looked up to find an intimidating Arthur towering over them.

"Um… sorry…" Matthew stuttered even though he knew it was Alfred's fault for disturbing Arthur in the first place, or so it seemed until Arthur spoke again.

"If you were truly sorry, you two wouldn't 'ave argued in zee first place. 'Onestly, men never sink with zheir 'eads." Not only did Arthur's voice sound shrill than normal but it somehow developed a strong French accent and Alfred was the first to point that out after standing up from the floor.

"Artie, why does your voice sound so squeaky? And why do you sound as though you have a cold?" Alfred asked with all the traces of fear gone.

"Artee?" The Englishman cocked his head to the side. "'Oo is zis _Artee_ you speak of?" Matthew got up from the floor carrying Kumajiro up with him.

"You must be Jeanne of Arc, eh?" He said to which Arthur nodded in response.

"I am Jeanne d'Arc monsieur. Zee Englishman I 'ave possessed 'as kindly let me borrow 'is body for a while, alzough, I do not like it much." He frowned to the side and folded his arm.

"But it's the only way you can talk to Francis right?" Matthew reminded the ghost inside Arthur's body to which Arthur faced the brothers.

"Of course. Apparement, 'e 'as already packed 'is sings in preparation for zee journey to France. I assume you two are just as prepared, non?"

"Wait, I thought Francis was coming here," Alfred pointed to the floor. Arthur placed a hand on his forehead.

"Are you saying zat you are not ready pour zee long journey?" His high-pitched voice expressed a degree of annoyance and frustration. "Must I teach you men 'ow to breathe along with everysing else? I 'aven't got a lot of time for idiocy!"

Matthew couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for Alfred, as Arthur chased him to the guest bedroom and ordered him to pack his things at a fast pace that the American was not used to. The Canadian even snuck back to his guest bedroom just to get himself and his luggage ready, hoping he wasn't going to get an earful from a ghost possessing Arthur's body. He could hear Alfred's protests and Arthur's yelling from the other room and was fortunate that he wasn't as scatter-brained and forgetful as his brother. That delay cost them a few hours along with Alfred's craving for breakfast. Fortunately, Matthew called a taxi while Joan continued her onslaught at Alfred on how he should become tougher and less of a slob than he already is. It wasn't until 11:45am that the black taxi cab pulled up at the house which gave Matthew enough courage and reason to stop the two from fighting.

"Um… you guys, the taxi's here," He said which motivated everyone to abandon the argument, gather their luggage and made their way to the door.

The first step Jeanne took in Arthur's body and already she seemed to be confused. She stared at the taxi cab for a moment before turning to Matthew. "So where are zey?" He asked as though he was demanding something.

"Where's what?" Matthew looked confused when Arthur directed the question at him.

"What do you sink I mean? Zee 'orses of course!" Arthur scowled at Matthew as though he asked the stupidest question in the world. "'Ow can zis carriage move wizout zee 'orses pulling it!"

"What are you talking about?" Alfred yelled as he strolled up to the two. "That car has all the horse power it needs with an engine." Arthur blinked with disbelief.

"You mean… all of zee 'orses are inside zis small carriage?"

"Um…" Alfred scratched his head awkwardly. "It's not like that but whatever." Arthur stared at the car with fascination.

"Incroyable… I 'ad no idea lots of 'orses could fit in zis carriage and pull it so easily," He whispered to himself. Matthew thought this would be a good time to drag them inside the taxi.

"You guys, we have somewhere to go," He said in an authoritive tone which sounded more annoyed than anything. Arthur turned to the Canadian and apologised before climbing into the taxi, followed by Alfred and Matthew after putting the luggage in the car. Once everyone was inside, the taxi driver turned his head back and asked them where they wanted to go. Arthur opened his mouth to answer when Matthew intervened when he remembered how different his voice sounded with a female spirit possessing the Englishman.

"To Dover please," He spoke politely. The driver nodded and off he drove them down the road. The three nations hardly said a single word occasionally glancing at each other in the awkward silence from the two hour journey from London to the Channel tunnel.

**END OF BEFORE PART 1**

**!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well… it's finally up and I can say a lot has happened since I first put this story up. This is only one half of a bonus chapter and there are three bonus chapters in total. But chapters will be coming in slow because I have a lot of assignments to complete for my uni course. Hopefully when I have them all out of the way, I can continue with this as well as 'Daisy Chain to Destiny'. Until then, try imagining Arthur talking in a high-pitched French accent. By the way in my head canon, Arthur is able to channel spirits as well as seeing them. **


	3. Before Part Two

The ride from London to Dover ended up with the following things that happened: Jeanne called Alfred a loud, obnoxious man after firing her loads of questions one would ask on a date only for said man to prove her point by laughing and shouting so loudly it grated on the ears of everyone inside the taxi and Kumajiro constantly having a cringing Matthew to remind him that he was the bear's owner. The taxi driver was relieved when they finally made it to Dover and he didn't hesitate to drive all the way back to London after they paid him.

Then there were the hours of waiting (or what felt like hours) before they were allowed on the Eurostar train by security (Alfred and Matthew had to quickly remind Jeanne who's body she borrowed, preventing her from taking on the security guards and demanding they know who she was. Fortunately, the guards overlooked Arthur's strange behaviour and let them on with just a warning.)

Jeanne was taken aback by how big the inside of the carriage was when they entered; it seemed to go on for almost forever and if it wasn't for Alfred and Matthew guiding her to a set of seats, she could have stared down the aisle forever. As everyone placed their luggage on the shelf above them, Alfred exhaled a breath of exhaustion and sunk into his seat. "Man, all that traveling is tiring me out." Jeanne snorted to that comment.

"In my day, men 'ad more stamina zan you 'ave right now," Arthur's annoyed expression turned away and folded his arms.

"Seriously, what is your problem?" The American exclaimed. "We're not your soldiers! Your time and war has been and gone Jeanne!"

As soon as that was said, Arthur's eyes stared blankly at the white table. No-one was able to say another word as there were other people in the carriage and because everyone had something to say, but was unable to bring it out in case it sounded more like shouting. Even after the train began to move, it was only an hour later until sleep finally consumed Alfred. Matthew however, stroked Kumajiro's head and stared at the darkness outside the train, glancing occasionally at Arthur whose head still hung gloomily. Even when he offered Jeanne some refreshments (she asked whether he could get her an apple), Arthur's emerald eyes never left the green apple sitting on the table. Matthew remembered what Alfred said and the Canadian knew better than to upset a spirit like Jeanne, no matter how strong they act. He let out a sigh and decided he couldn't stand watching Arthur's disconsolate expression and finally plucked up the courage to ask her: "Are you alright?" Arthur lifted his head slightly and nodded.

"I am fine," Her French accent escaped from his voice box but somehow it sounded melancholic than intended.

"Well you haven't stopped staring at that apple for sometime," Matthew tucked a piece of his wavy, blonde hair behind one ear. "Is something wrong?" Jeanne hesitated with her answer until she made the effort to lift her head and gaze at the sleeping American.

"Is 'e always so loud?" She asked.

Matthew exhaled and nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. People can't believe we're actually brothers."

Jeanne chuckled quietly and resumed staring at Alfred. "'E may be a loud mouthed fool 'oo could get 'imself killed instantly but…" She let out a sigh. "'E seems 'opeful and full of dreams… just like Francis."

Matthew stared at Arthur pensively. "Well, I know Francis can be fanciful with his imagination but he never really talks aboot his dreams with anyone. Not even me."

Jeanne let out another inaudible chortle and gazed at the apple with a nostalgic smile. "Whenever we were able see each ozer, we would always go to Orleans and sit under an apple tree on a 'ill over looking over zee countryside. Some'ow we always managed to pick zee days when it was most sunny, warm and when zee sky was most blue. Francis would always talk about 'ow after we win against zee English, 'e will lay down 'is sword, and plant a giant orchard full of trees bearing fruit and an allotment where zee vegetables will grow. 'E said zat 'e would 'ope to grow enough food to prevent people in France from 'unger ever again. After all, a lot of people were starving while zee kings and noblemen ate too much. I told 'im zat it was an unrealistic dream but 'e insisted 'e'd try for zee sake of zee people 'oo didn't deserve to starve."

Matthew hugged the sleeping polar bear to his chest and felt a sort of sadness for the Frenchman.

As a child, Francis made sure the garden at the Canadian's house was trimmed and the flowers bloomed as beautiful and alive since the last time he visited. In fact, that was one of the few times when the boy could tell his 'papa' was truly happy as he always smiled proudly after he finished with the gardening.

And even at the present, Francis seemed more comfortable in the garden than anywhere else at his house. He assumed gardening helped him relax since he felt like he still has more control over it than other aspects of his life.

Napoleon Bonaparte's death made him hang his sword up and take up farming and he seemed to enjoy a lot more than fighting. Matthew felt somewhat sympathetic thinking about it since he would avoid confrontation at all costs unless there was no alternative. He didn't even want to think about how he joined forces with Arthur and went against his own brother just to get revenge for being attacked in the first place.

"Matthieu?" Arthur's voice jerked the Canadian from his wanderings in his memories. He blinked a few times and got used to his surroundings before gazing at the Englishman.

"Eh?"

"Are you alright?" Jeanne asked, while Arthur's face looked with concern. Matthew raised a smile.

"Oui, I'm fine. I was just remembering some things that's all."

Arthur uttered a quiet "oh" and beamed back. "You remind me of Francis so much. Your appearance and everysing, even if you are less vocal zan 'e is." Matthew wasn't quite sure how to take that so he laughed nervously.

"You really think so?"

Arthur bowed his head. "Of course. You are kind and considerate like 'im. 'Oo else can sink of building a farm in 'opes of feeding 'is starving country? So far, Francis 'as been zee only one I know." He sighed and finally picked up the green apple and took a bite out of it. Arthur seemed to savour the sweet taste and chewed for some time before swallowing and staring nostalgically where he had just bitten the apple, letting out a sigh amd closing his eyes. "Zis apple… it's just like zee one Francis gave to me before I was taken 'ostage by zee Englishmen. It's as if 'e gave it to me only yesterday."

It was strange how Matthew seemed to have forgotten that Jeanne possessed Arthur because he began to imagine how she would look in Arthur's place. She must have been beautiful or Francis wouldn't have taken much notice of her and imagined her with long, flaming red hair (despite Francis telling him she had blonde and shorter hair) but she replaced Arthur's emerald eyes with sapphire blue. Pure blue eyes like the sky. She sounded like a person who could bring out the sun on a dark day. Well, Francis thought so anyway from the way he talked about her even if it wasn't often. Matthew leant back and smiled at the thought of them sitting on the hill, laughing and smiling while eating an apple each from the tree they sat under. This provoked Arthur to cock his head to the side with a perplexed look on his face. "What were you sinking about just now?" Jeanne asked curiously.

Matthew smiled at the man sitting across the table. "Even though you're inside my friend's body, you somehow make me feel like..." He paused. "YHe's her in stead of himself. Like the world is a bright, beautiful and peaceful place."

"Francis always said zat to me," Jeanne giggled. "From zee moment we met right to my moment of death. But I'm proud of 'im for looking at zee world as a wonderful place as 'e always 'as and I sink ozer people should follow zat example of gratitude." Matthew then remembered what Alfred said to silence Joan bit his lip.

"Um… about what Alfred said… I'm sure he didn't mean to-"

"'E is right in a way. I 'ave gone from zee world of zee living," Arthur stared at the ceiling. "But zat doesn't mean I'm completely gone, for Francis seems to be living pour moi as well as 'imself and many ozers 'e 'olds dear. So non, I am not upset with Alfred at all."

"Oh. That's good," The Canadian stroked the top of Kumajiro's head, slightly relieved of her response. "Just like the sun," He thought.

An hour or so later, they finally arrived at France and called the taxi. Matthew held the phone up to his ear and ordered a taxi for Paris when he heard his name being called by Jeanne which provoked a glance. "Please," She began. "Can we go to Rouen first? I just want to visit zhere before we visit Francis." Matthew hesitated for a moment before changing the demand on the phone. For her to ask such a request could only mean there was something significant about Rouen. Ten minutes later and the taxi cab arrived. Throughout the journey though, everyone was quiet. The silence wasn't awkward but it did unnerve Matthew a little bit. Whether Alfred felt guilty about his comment to Joan or not, was the question playing on the Canadian's mind as well as what Jeanne wanted to do once they would arrive in Rouen. Another few hours later and they finally arrived at Rouen but what happened next shocked both the North American brothers. The taxi door opened and since Arthur sat nearest to one of the doors, he managed to throw himself out of the car and broke into a run in a random direction. The brothers panicked and immediately dashed after the rogue Englishman.

"Arthur! Come back here!" Alfred shouted as the brothers meandered past many people who gave them hostile or inquiring looks. Matthew called out to Arthur in French in case Jeanne ignored the English cries but Arthur didn't slow down his pace. Not until he reached the Place du Vieux-Marché, by which time, he stopped amongst the hustle and bustle of people on the cobblestone square. It was a minute later that the North American brothers finally caught up with him.

"What the hell were you thinking!" Alfred panted for breath. "You maybe French but places can change and you could have gotten run over by a car or something!"

Arthur didn't respond to the American's scolding but instead stared across the square where people talked, laughed, chatted, walked; and generally toured around the place naturally. Matthew stepped to Arthur's side and shook him gently. "Jeanne? Are you alright?"

Arthur didn't respond straight away but when he did, he murmured; "Zis place 'as changed so much… zee place where people watched me burn is zee place where people flock to enjoy zemselves. It is most strange 'ow so much 'as changed over time." Both brothers gazed at him until Matthew turned his head towards a cathedral and quickly snapped his head back at Arthur.

"Jeanne, if you let us, there's a place we think you might, um… appreciate." Arthur turned to the brothers and stared at them before slightly nodding his head. While following Alfred and Matthew across the square, Jeanne still found it confusing how people mourned for her death on this very square yet no sadness can be sensed now; just joy and the enjoyment of visiting such a historic place. Her head scanned the area in different directions watching the many people stroll across the square until she finally faced forward and widened her eyes in surprise at the statue in front of them. A concrete woman stood praying with her hands clasped together. Needless to say, Jeanne was completely entranced.

"Is zat supposed to be… me?" She whispered as Arthur took a step forward towards the statue as his hand floated up to the left side of his chest.

"I suppose it is in a way," Matthew said as something on the ground caught Arthur's eye. At the statue's feet lay a white flower with many petals and that raised a smile on the Englishman's lips.

"Francis 'as already been 'ere," He crouched and pointed to the flower. "'E left anozer chrysanthemum 'ere."

"Really?" Alfred frowned slightly. "Does he come here every year?"

Arthur nodded in confirmation but didn't say anything and hugged his knees. "'E never was good at saying goodbye." He said sadly. Matthew wasn't sure whether Jeanne was about to shed some tears because of the touching gesture from Francis. He can't imagine a strong-willed woman like Jeanne to cry but he thought the same thing about Arthur until after losing to Alfred in the American Revolution. He could recall the Englishman crying for several days. He didn't want to think further than that since things escalated in more chaos from there but right now, his hand gently touched Arthur's shoulder and looked at him with concern.

"Um… did you want to see Francis now?" He asked softly to which Arthur responded with a nod and stood up straight.

Another taxi was called and the silence lingered again, only it was solemn as though it was disrespectful to say anything. Even Alfred was on his best behaviour and that was saying something. Matthew stared at the floor the whole time, fidgeting with the polar bear's fur between his fingers. What Jeanne said about Francis not being good at saying goodbye rang true for all nations in a way. He remembered when the Frenchman had to give him up to Arthur as a child. The first few days was quite stressful: he found the English language difficult to grasp and he had cried several nights begging his 'papa' to walk through the door and take him back home so they could carry on with the lives they had before.

"Earth to Mattie! We're at Francey Pants' place!"

Even Francis' brief visits didn't settle him down; he just wanted to go home. He waited for him to take him back to where he felt he belonged.

"Matthieu, we're 'ere."

That gentle voice snapped the Canadian out from his musings and got used to his surroundings. He glanced out of the window to find the big, cream house outside and stepped out of the taxi to collect his stuff from the boot. Once everyone had gathered their things, they made their descent up the garden path. Arthur couldn't help but look around the front garden with a smile on his face. "I see Francis 'as kept 'is promise about 'is love for growing sings. Zee flowers look as zough zey've been loved."

"Yeah. Apparently it helps him relax or something," Alfred interjected cheerfully. Matthew supposed he was trying to brighten the mood up which was a nice gesture. Finally they stopped at the wooden front door as Alfred extended an arm to press the doorbell button. The chime rung from the inside making Matthew feel nervous. How were they going to explain to Francis that Arthur, his life long rival, is channelling the woman he once loved? Speaking of which, he turned to Arthur who stared at the door intensely.

"Are you going to be okay Jeanne?" He asked. "If you can, try to act a little like Arthur until you're ready to tell him who you are."

"I will be fine," Jeanne said immediately after Matthew spoke. "Sings will work out in zee end. We just need to explain everysing while being respectful towards 'is feelings."

The Canadian nodded before turning to the sound of the door creaking open.

**END OF BEFORE - PART 2.**

**!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: And the first out of three bonus chapters is done! After so much college work and other things going on in real life, I finally managed to get this up. I'm pretty worried that I may have confused people with the whole Arthur/Jeanne ghost possession going on but hopefully I've made it clear enough for people to understand what's going on. This is the second most serious chapter out of the three bonus chapters and the next one is going to be even more sad and melancholic.**

**I've been listening to a lot of songs by Zazie (who is an amazing French singer by the way) while writing this; especially 'Sur Toi'. I've also been listening to a lot of sad piao music too. I've been trying to make myself cry while writing this chapter and thankfully I succeeded in shedding a few tears. For some reason, I get really depressed when writing for France; it's like I've slowly gotten to understand the character better. I just hope I haven't made Jeanne too aggressive/wimpy but so far, people have been saying I've been doing a good job so I can breathe a sigh of relief on that.**

**So until the next bonus chapter comes up, leave your comments and fav this story when you can. I would really appreciate it very much. **


	4. During

When Alfred was ordered to go into the kitchen by his brother, he did admit he needed a break from the surreal situation that Arthur convinced them to participate. Sure he got over the fact that Arthur is currently being possessed by a 15th century religious martyr, who was brutally executed for witchcraft and wanted to communicate with Francis, but it was a lot to take in. The American glanced at both of them as if he asked whether they were going to be alright. Their gaze told him they would be fine by themselves and into the kitchen he sauntered.

He slowly shut the door and let out a sigh, peeling off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Today had been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for everyone in a way; with Francis and Arthur, well, Jeanne having the most impact followed by Matthew and then Alfred himself. Matthew had been more quiet than usual since they arrived in France and that's why he placed him third in 'the person who's been affected most by the situation contest' in his mind. He didn't find anything wrong at first but by the time Matthew slumped into a chair with Kumajiro, Alfred could see the despondent expression on his brother's face. His glazed blue eyes stared at the table, almost oblivious to the fact Alfred was in the room with him. The American placed his glasses back on his nose and exhaled again before finally asking the one question which is the most stupid question for the situation and yet, it was the only one he could ask.

"Hey, Mattie? Are you okay?"

"I really had no idea how much he was suffering," The Canadian didn't turn away from the spot on the table as he mumbled.

"What do you mean by that?" Alfred leant against the door. He began to worry about his brother's response mainly because he didn't really answer the question but he could tell he wasn't feeling alright.

"Francis…" He started but hesitated as if he was afraid he'd breakdown if he continued with his answer. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I always worried about Francis at this time of year… ever since I found out about the reason why he always forced a smile on today. He did it while I lived with him as a kid." Alfred almost forgot he used to live with Francis before the many wars that drained him financially and was forced to give the Canadian to Arthur.

Once that connection was made, Alfred remembered the first few nights when he, as a child, couldn't get to sleep because he was spooked by the sounds of whimpering from what he thought came from some ghosts. After a week or so, he plucked up enough courage to investigate the noise and tiptoed around the hallway until he reached Matthew's room. Thinking he also feared ghosts, Alfred burst into the room wielding a wooden toy sword but that only led to scaring Matthew and a good telling off from Arthur. The next night Alfred managed to sneak into the Canadian's room and asked why he was crying only for Matthew to sob into him and blubbered how much he wanted to go back to Francis. Since then, Alfred did his best to cheer Matthew up when he wasn't bored and was able to see his brother in the first place. Despite this, it was in the present that the American realised just how lonely Matthew had felt throughout his life.

Once, Alfred received a call from a panic-stricken Matthew; pleading him to come to his house because, and Alfred could quote, that he didn't want to be left alone again. Matthew clung onto him for dear life by the time he arrived, and only managed to say the cause of his panic attack in form of Kumajiro's temporary disappearance from the Canadian's sight. Even after finding the polar bear asleep in the laundry basket, Alfred couldn't leave the house until the next morning because Matthew begged him to stay. And even now, the American was still unsure why his brother was so clingy that night. But he didn't think for one second he'd find out the reason in Francis' kitchen of all places.

"Ever since that time when you gained your independence, I've suffered with the irrational fear of being in a room or building with no-one else inside," his confession pricked Alfred's attention in the form of turning to his brother with a perplexed expression.

"What are you talking about?"

Matthew swallowed hard, bringing Kumajiro closer to his chest for security. "No-one is good at saying goodbye. I know that but over time, my fear escalated to the stage of panic from the moment Francis gave me away to Arthur."

Alfred blinked in slight disbelief; however, it did make some sense when he recalled the time Matthew made a panicked phone call to him that one evening. A lot of nations developed fears of different things thanks to bad experiences from wars to life changing events; for example, thunderstorms reminded Arthur about the blitz and he still felt uneasy because of it. While Toris lived with Alfred in the 1920s, one pat on the Lithuanian's back sent him into a panic attack lasting half an hour. He suspected the flashbacks came from the constant abuse Ivan and Natalya inflicted on his battered and scarred back when Toris lived with them.

Going back to Matthew's confession, Alfred had no idea about his fear since the Canadian looked all right whenever he visited his place. After putting the pieces together, he figured Kumajiro must be the reason why he never found out before. Even as a child, Matthew always cuddled that polar bear and it never left his side as far as he knew. Despite forgetting his owner's name most of the time, Matthew must have been grateful that Kumajiro had been there for him when he really needed the bear's company. Alfred chuckled to himself in his head thinking how a polar bear was doing a better job of being Matthew's source of comfort than he had ever been. That chuckle translated to a sad smile to the Canadian who fidgeted with Kumajiro's fur in between his fingers.

"I… really had no idea," Alfred said quietly. "You seemed okay whenever I see you. I didn't realise you had such a… fear." Alfred's hand grabbed his other arm and squeezed it slightly. He definitely felt bad for neglecting him all this time.

"There's more," Matthew interjected again. "That time when Arthur and I burnt down the White House…" He choked towards the end of the sentence and bit his bottom lip. Finding his new sense of duty, Alfred pulled a chair and sat next to his brother.

"Matthew, you don't have to talk about that. I forgave both of you a long time ago. It's all in the past."

"After you gained your independence, Arthur did nothing but cry. He felt like you threw everything back in his face after he took care of you." The Canadian continued. "I watched him cry and that made me feel sorry for him. I wish I had the gift of making him smile like you could. But I couldn't do anything… until one day, he called me by my real name, asking me to help him get you back for abandoning him."

"Mattie…" Alfred uttered, wishing his brother could sense the slight discomforting tone of the subject and stop talking about it. He didn't want his brother to delve too much in the dark matter for whatever he was going to say.

"When I heard him acknowledge me as Matthew and not you Alfred, I could have hugged him there and then if he hadn't have talked about his revenge on you. I felt ecstatic. I wanted the feeling of recognition to last so I immediately said yes…" He struggled to control his choking voice. "I was too excited about being recognised that I didn't think about how I upset you before it was too late. I hurt you because of a selfish wish…" Alfred could see he was going to burst into tears any second and laid a comforting arm around Matthew's shoulders.

"Mattie, it's okay. I said I forgave you," The American's voice soothed. "You had no choice but to follow his order because you were still under British rule."

"I made the decision myself. I wanted to hold onto that feeling for a bit longer. What I did was wrong! That's why Papa never took me back when he had the chance," tears began filling around the bottom of Matthew's eyes. "I hurt you Alfred, my brother. You may have forgiven me but I still haven't forgiven myself!"

"Mattie, look at me," Alfred turned Matthew's head to face his sincere expression. "Francis would never reject you just because you helped Artie. I should have at least asked whether you were okay more often, played with you when you wanted me, comforted you when you got upset. I should have been a better brother to you when you really needed me. Then maybe you wouldn't have developed that fear you have now. We all should have done something to help you."

Matthew's eyes glistened with the tears that trickled down his cheeks and almost suddenly, one hand grabbed onto Alfred's denim jacket while the other stayed wrapped around Kumajiro. He bowed his head onto Alfred's shoulder and quietly sobbed into it. This initiated the American to embrace his brother with both arms into a hug and rubbed his back with small circles.

"Francis loves you too much to reject you," Alfred said calmly. "His bosses made the decision not to take you back when Francis begged them to reconsider. I bet after he apologised and left you, he cried because he felt like he was losing Jeanne all over again. He never wanted to say goodbye and I think it definitely broke his heart when he had to leave you."

"I know," Matthew whispered. "At the time I felt so emotional so I didn't think of anything else other then calling Papa back, hoping he'd listen, turn around and take me back so we could go back to the way things were, the good times."

"Yeah," Alfred nodded slightly. "I wanted things to go back that way between me and Artie too."

He waited for Matthew to reply but one glance told Alfred that his brother had gone to sleep on him. He couldn't help but raise a smile; Matthew always fell asleep after having a good cry. It was an endearing quality in Alfred's eyes and that made him take charge of being his brother's pillow until he woke up.

He let his thoughts wander and concluded that Matthew and Francis were good together (in a father-son relationship) because they both experienced loneliness one way or another. It was that synergy of their company that Alfred had been envious of in the past. Arthur wasn't a bad elder brother figure but there were times where he felt they were miles apart; like the time Arthur made him try on the suit which made Alfred feel less than comfortable and many petty squabbles similar to that. At one point, he wondered whether their relationship was built on teasing and arguing like a married couple. Life would have been easier but duller too if they didn't argue. But there was something nice about Francis and Matthew being together as a family. It was like they needed each other in order to survive emotionally after everything they went through. Now that he thought about it, there was another reason why he left Arthur to become independent. That reason being because he didn't want him and the British Empire to become so big that he'd disappear suddenly like the Roman and Holy Roman Empire. He remembered Feliciano crying one day after he made fun out of the Italian's cowardice. He could quote the very words he screamed in anger:

"_You should be grateful Britain is still alive after being an empire twice! He would have too many scars on his back and he'd disappear just like Grandpa Rome and Holy Rome!"_

At first he laughed at him and called him an idiot but after a while, those words grew on him and created feelings of guilt. What if Arthur grew too big and disappeared like Feliciano's grandfather? He wouldn't have been able to handle the loss well. He apologised to him after a week of considering that horrible possibility and had no reason to regret his victory over Arthur in the American Revolution ever since. Suddenly, Matthew's movements snapped Alfred out of those thoughts as he looked down to find his brother waking up.

"Hey. How ya feeling?" The American asked as Matthew took his glasses off and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Mmm… how long was I asleep?" He mumbled.

"Not long," Alfred answered simply, realising they were both still in a hug. "Hey, Mattie?"

"Mm?"

"Don't you feel awkward knowing we hugged each other for a while?"

"… Yeah."

"You think we should break apart?"

"… That would be a good idea."

Alfred unwrapped his arms from Matthew as he in turn detached himself from the American. They sat in an awkward silence, not looking at each other for a while before Alfred took the initiative at glancing at Matthew. "Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks," He raised a small smile back before blushing awkwardly. Silence filled the kitchen again and it was making Alfred feel nervous. He desperately racked his brain to find something to break the discomforting atmosphere until his lips turned into a grin.

"Hey Matt, how about we spy on Francis and Artie and see what they have to say?" He asked with a mischievous tone.

"But shouldn't we let their conversation be private?" Matthew frowned with disproval.

"Come on Matt. You know you want to," The American whinged. "Besides, I need someone to translate the gibberish they're speaking."

"It's French Alfred," The Canadian rolled his eyes with a slight annoyance and opened the door a little.

"Hey! If it's not American, it's gibberish!"

There was a pause between the two men until Matthew's eyes widened in horror. "M-Maple leaf…"

"What's the matter Matt?" Alfred pushed the door open a little more. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something." Once his eyes met with the scene in front of them, Alfred's eyes grew in size with the same shock. He could only watch for a few seconds before shutting the door as quickly (and as quietly) as possible. It took both brothers the same amount of time to finally say something. "Holy crap! Were they just… kissing each other?" Alfred turned to Matthew who nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah. They were kissing alright."

Before either of them could add anything to their shocking discovery, they heard a thud. Matthew let out a little gasp and snapped his head towards Alfred's before deciding to investigate who or what made that sound. Alfred opened the door once again and exited out of the kitchen with Matthew following behind, carrying Kumajiro in his arms. It didn't take them long to Arthur curled up in a heap on the floor with Francis holding him in desperation, muttering Jeanne's name. The North American brothers gazed at the scene sadly knowing Jeanne had most likely left Arthur's body.

"Francis?" Matthew found his voice as the Frenchman looked up to find them staring at him. He turned his gaze back at the Englishman and looked at him with a dazed expression. Alfred glanced at Matthew as if he said he knew what he should do and approached their former guardians.

"Lets get Artie to the couch," He said softly as he took one side of the Briton. Francis wiped the tears from his cheek and grabbed the other side of Arthur and took his to the couch with Alfred. While Matthew followed them, he couldn't help but wonder whether Jeanne had shed any tears before saying goodbye. Judging by the look on Arthur's face, there was no evidence that he or she had cried. Even when she knew she had to go, Jeanne still stayed strong. Anyone would think she was a nation with the amount of inner strength she had. Once Alfred and Francis laid Arthur across the chocolate brown couch, Matthew took up a place on the couch opposite the one Arthur and Francis now occupied. For a minute or so, everyone watched the unconscious figure until Francis finally spoke up.

"Did Artur mention when 'e'd wake up after being possessed?"

"He said it would take a while for him to regain consciousness but if you wanted a specific time, he said it's different every time so we don't know." Matthew piped up, he held his gaze at Arthur.

"I see," Francis lifted Arthur's head onto his lap. Whether it was on purpose or an unconscious action, neither brother was sure.

"Francis, are you okay?" Alfred asked before the Frenchman raised a smile. They were also unsure about that gesture and his hand that grazed gently over Arthur's blonde locks. Not even a glance between the brothers could help them decipher the answer until Francis responded to Alfred's question.

"I forgive you."

"Forgive us for what?" Matthew couldn't understand why his Papa was saying it. As far as he knew, neither of them did anything wrong to him. Well, maybe it was aimed at Arthur since they had a history of fighting each other. Francis met their confused stares with a relieved gaze.

"I don't know but…" He turned his gaze back at the sleeping Englishman. "Per'aps it's to clear sings up between us non?"

"I guess," Alfred scratched the back of his head while Matthew couldn't help but feel a little emotional once again. Somehow, he felt some warmth wash over him with his Papa saying those words. It was like the world and everything in it felt right, like it had been cleansed. Hugging Kumajiro closer to his chest, he returned a smile back at his former guardian. "Merci, eh?" He said. As he watched Francis caress Arthur with his touch, he decided he would forgive some people too; starting off with Francis, Alfred, and Arthur. And when the next time he would visit Francis by himself, he will confess the fear he told Alfred. No doubt Francis would be willing to help him get over the fear but as long as he had people willing to support him, Matthew felt unafraid of what may come their way. And Alfred could also see that from the smile on the Canadian's face.

!

**I was surprised so much while writing this chapter. Never had I had so many ideas come all at once! I had never intended this chapter to go like this but thankfully I went with it and I like it a lot. Matthew having the fear of being in a room or building all by himself has become a new head canon for me and it has inspired me to write a one-shot based on this. But until then, I need to get my college work finished and finish what could be the final chapter of this fan fic.**

**Once again, thank you for reading this so far and leave comments/reviews when you have the time. I really do like reading them and I always make sure I read every last one of them. **


	5. After

"…our…"

An ache to Arthur's jaw meant he was regaining his senses again. Still in darkness, the Englishman felt like he woke up after a long surgical operation that required a whole tank of anesthetic gas. His limbs twitched slightly as they eventually regained their feeling. He could even feel someone stroking his short blonde hair.

"…il pla… eve…"

The voice seemed to be swimming inside Arthur's head. He squeezed his eyes tight before slowly lifting his eyelids and meeting the gaze of a blurry face.

"Mon amour… réveillez-vous s'il vous plait…" The accent became more distinct. It was French no doubt about it and by the time Arthur's eyes regained their focus, Francis looked down on him with a subdued expression. Arthur froze for a moment. If Francis was looking down on him, it could only mean one thing; the Englishman's head rested on the Frenchman's lap. Letting out a yelp, he threw himself forward into an upright position and spun around on the couch placing his feet on the floor.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at frog! You were going to molest me, weren't you!" He screeched at the unfazed Francis, who turned his head in response to his outburst.

"Welcome back to zee world of zee living Art'ur," He said nonchalantly.

"Dude, you're back!" Alfred beamed his trademark million watt smile and leant forward from his place on the couch. "Glad to see you're back to normal!"

"How are you feeling?" Matthew interjected softly while hugging Kumajiro. Arthur glared at the Frenchman for a moment before turning away and exhaling. His hand floated to the side of his head.

"I'm fine. I'm just a little tired, that's all," Arthur said.

"Do you need a drink at all?" Matthew asked again. The Englishman threaded his fingers together and placed his chin on his hands.

"I think I'll have one just to clear my head," His expression did seem tired, prompting Francis to stand from the couch and made his way to the kitchen.

"I'll see if I 'ave any tea in zee cupboards," Francis said, leaving the North American brothers to watch Arthur get used to his surroundings again. He could see they were concerned for him; tiredness seemed to make Arthur feel out of it. He had to give them a sign to assure them he was all right so he tilted his head to face the concerned pair.

"I said I'm fine. I'm not going to suddenly faint," Arthur reassured them again.

"Um…" Alfred glanced at the floor until his eyes drifted back to the Briton. "How was it; being possessed by a ghost? Does it… hurt?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not really. I can't feel any pain, nor do I know anything of what I'm doing while a ghost or spirit possesses my body. For example, the last thing I remember before Jeanne possessed me was being in my house with you two, staring into the candle flame. I can't recall where we went or what we did even if I tried because she was in control of me the whole time."

This provoked a mischievous grin from Alfred. "So you don't remember you and Francis getting a little close?"

Arthur blinked as though fully awake and aware what he just said. A sense of dread crept inside of him. "What are you implying?"

"Woah, dude! You didn't know that you and Francis were playing tonsil tennis?" The American laughed much to the embarrassment of Matthew who just placed a hand on his face.

"What?" Arthur stared at the pair in horror. Francis' timing couldn't be more impeccable as he carried the tea set into the room and set it on the coffee table. All in one swift movement, Arthur yanked the Frenchman's collar towards him so that he could see the anger burning in the Englishman's emerald eyes. "Francis. What did you do to me?" The Frenchman blinked in confusion and wished he could look away but that could mean a painful death by whatever Arthur could do at the moment.

"I don't understand! What's gotten into you? Are you possessed by anozer ghost?" He stammered but this only earned him another jerk from Arthur pulling on his shirt.

"Don't give me that trollop you wanker! You took advantage of me while I was indisposed!"

"But Arthur, you said that Jeanne had control of your body for nearly a day," Matthew began, trying to pacify the situation. "There's no way you could have prevented her doing whatever she did in your body."

"And I'd like to add zat she wanted to kiss me aussi," Francis interjected.

"Why didn't anyone stop me?" Arthur screeched and pushed the Frenchman away so he could make his way upstairs. "Now I need to wash my mouth out with soap and bleach just to get rid of the scent of frog!" He stomped up the stairs, leaving Matthew giving Alfred an annoyed glare while Francis realized that Arthur had found out about what they both did in the living room, before Joan went to heaven.

!

Arthur furiously scrubbed everywhere inside his mouth with a toothbrush he grabbed from his suitcase; teeth, gums, tongue and anywhere else he didn't intend to miss. The white toothpaste frothed around his lips, which dribbled down his chin and plopped into the porcelain white sink. And through the cleansing of whatever French bacteria lingered inside his mouth, he ranted (or in this case, spluttered) about how disgusting it was kissing Francis. How did he manage to convince Joan to engage in that detestable motion he would never know the truth. Francis would likely give a biased version of events if he asked him. Finally he spat out the toothpaste into the sink and ran the tap to scoop some of the water into his mouth. He swirled it inside his mouth and spat the water out several times until he was satisfied that he got rid of the bacteria.

"And nobody even stopped me! I specifically told Matthew and Alfred to prevent me from doing something embarrassing! Alfred I can understand not doing as I said but Matthew? I really don't know why I did it!" Arthur wiped his mouth on a hand towel, muffling his rant.

"_You 'ad several reasons for letting me possess you. One of which is preventing me from messing around with your belongings."_

Arthur looked up to the mirror and stared at his reflection even though he was looking at one corner of the room with the corners of his eyes. "I thought you passed over to the after life."

"_Well even zough I 'ave completed my task, I wanted to sank you."_

Arthur chuckled. "I can't exactly abandon a cry for help from a lady. That would be most ungentlemanly of me."

"_I'm glad someone still follows zee code of chivalry in zis day and age."_

"Yes well…" The Briton paused for a few seconds.

"_I want to sank you for letting me bring peace to Francis. 'E really needed some comfort today. I was afraid of what would 'ave 'appened if I 'aven't 'ave intervened."_

"He would most likely have sulked for a couple of days and return to his normal self-centered self afterwards."

"_Non. Zis year would 'ave been different. A great tragedy would not 'ave been prevented if I 'aven't 'ave asked for your 'elp."_

"A tragedy?" Arthur cocked one of his thick eyebrows. "I think you're being over the top when you say that."

"_A few days after today, someone would 'ave said somesing to make Francis snap at zee next meeting 'e attends. At first, 'e would act like it didn't bozer 'im but during zee break, 'is 'eart would shatter. 'E would cry until anger is left inside of 'im. Zen 'e would 'ave got access to a weapon and smash anysing and anyone in 'is path. 'E would 'ave regressed back to zee time of zee Reign of Terror; a time of unnecessary destruction and death."_

Arthur turned to the porcelain bath and stared at the empty space. Aside from the fact that he had an overall clean bathroom, he couldn't help but imagine Francis' rage. Of course Arthur had seen him angry on many occasions (him being the reason a lot of the time), however, never had he seen him angered to the extent where he would willingly destroy things. Francis wasn't the type to break things; he believed he had no right to destroy something someone else created. He has hurt and killed people sure but that was out of duty, not spite.

No. Francis was a man of creation. He was the man who said if he could, he would lay down his sword and become a farmer so he could grow food for all the starving people in his country when the rich had too much of it. He was the man who tried to see beauty in everything that lived in the ugly world full of hatred and chaos. He was the man who if he could, spread all the love in his heart and wash all the hate in the world away, leaving nothing but happiness and hope behind. Francis certainly had enough of it to give to everyone. That's when Arthur realized why he made such an impression on Joan. That's why he loved her; because she wanted to create, not destroy. That's why they shared that goodbye kiss; she wanted Francis to keep creating while he held onto the reason why he loved her so much.

Arthur finally let out a sigh at the bath. He tried to create something good with his British Empire, only for it to eventually crumble in his hands. One by one, the future he hoped to see eventually disappeared with nations under his thumb becoming independent. But it did make him wonder whether he would still be in this world if Alfred hadn't had defeated him on that rainy day.

When Alfred made fun out of Feliciano that time, what the Italian cried made him think.

"_You should be grateful Britain is still alive after being an empire twice! He would have too many scars on his back and he'd disappear just like Grandpa Rome and Holy Rome!"_

When he returned to the safe recluse of his home, he wept knowing he burned down his capital in return for saving his life.

"Arthur?" A soft voice came from the door, grabbing Arthur's attention. His teary eyes locked onto a perplexed Matthew.

"Oh, Matthew" The Briton uttered, blinking the escaping tears from his eyes.

"A-Are you alright?" The Canadian took a step towards Arthur. "You were talking to someone but…" he looked around the bathroom, trying to find this person until Arthur let out a chuckle and raised an assuring smile.

"Oh, no. I'm fine. I've just been thinking that's all."

"It sounded like a one sided conversation."

Arthur folded the towel he had in his hand neatly and threw it into the laundry basket new to the sink. No doubt Francis would not want to spread British germs all over his French body. "Did you come here to see whether I was all right? It's like I've said before; I'm not going to faint or suffer any other abnormalities after spiritual possession."

Matthew glanced at the turquoise floor tiles. "Yeah, kind of." He looked up at Arthur with a sincere expression. "Also when you come down, Francis wants to tell you something important."

"Is he going to explain about why he molested me while I was in possession?" Arthur's annoyance returned to his voice. He still hadn't quite forgiven Francis for kissing him. Matthew's eyes drifted away from Arthur's eye level and at the turquoise walls.

"It's something important so it's got nothing to do with that… um… kiss. Please, just listen to him when he's explaining."

Arthur let out a sigh. "Alright, I'll let him have his say. I've washed every frog germ I could out anyway." Matthew nodded and said, "okay" before making his way into the hallway. The Briton followed until he stopped and turned to the bathroom again, raising another smile. "It wasn't a problem."

"Arthur?" Matthew called again, making Arthur continue down the hallway and down the stairs. He felt Joan's presence finally vanish from the house. He knew she had taken care of business with the world of the living.

!

**Long time no see! All my uni assignments are done so I can now focus on finishing some projects off including this story.**

**I did say this would be the last story but after writing it, I think there should be one more chapter so it's not finished yet. I also said the During or Before Part 2 or maybe the Original chapter was probably the saddest chapter in this story. After listening to Zazie's "Si J'etais Moi' goodness knows how many times and writing this, I think this chapter's pretty sad considering it had that one spot where Arthur finds out about the kiss. I cried writing the ending part of the chapter, I was told to take a break from it by my friends who I was talking to on Skype. I was reluctant but I'm glad I did what they said, so thanks you guys for preventing me from having an emotional break down.**

**This reminded me of a conversation I had with Animefairi about my other France and Jeanne story, "A Conversation With Jeanne". I typed this comment back to her and that made me think about a lot of things about not only France as a character but my views on him and how I see myself now:**

"_**Thank you so much for taking the time to review this! Your comments made me very happy as I was trying to achieve the sense of seriousness with France during the Reign of Terror. I know it never mentions that (although I mentioned it in the summary) but yeah, I wanted to show the sort of pain France, not only as a person, but the whole nation was going through. I've read books upon books about the French Revolution and The Reign of Terror and it was a scary time. People had to be careful what they said in case they were perceived as a traitor just because others thought they were against the revolution.**_

I could go on a rant about how a lot of fans treat him like crap and say he's a rapist just because he's French but instead I'll say this: I think France is a country that's passionate in everything; art, food, romance and lots of other things. The French Revolution sums my view up perfectly; the poorer people had enough of the fact that the kings and rich nobles had too much of everything while they had too little and pretty much did something about the problem rather than sitting around doing nothing and complaining about it.

It makes me angry that a lot of fans have this shallow view of France, as a character, being a sex-crazed maniac and I think if they decided to make the effort to read French history, I predict they'll never think about him in the same way ever again. I believe (in my headcanon) that France tries to find all the beautiful things in the ugly world we live in today (of course he would try to find beautiful things in the past too). Whether this behaviour is a way of him staying optimistic or maybe it's a form of deluding himself from the cruel reality, he still searches for those things because what's the point of dwelling on things that make him sad? I've come to love France as a character since role-playing him in Hetalia role-play groups for that reason.

In fact, I think that's kind of rubbed off on me since I seem to be more hopeful than I was before. I know reality sucks but instead of moaning about it, I've begun taking those opportunities by the horns and getting pretty far with what I want to do. I guess in a weird way, I can say Hetalia (and France) has changed me for the better."

**After reading back what I've said, I was amazed just how much I've changed since getting into the fandom and I guess if I hadn't have taken GCSE French, I probably wouldn't have gotten the chance to grow the way I have now. And I think I'll end this A/N here since I've started to ramble now. See you in the final chapter of "To Francis From Jeanne".**


	6. Epilogue

Arthur couldn't help but occasionally glance at Francis during the meeting currently taking place in Paris. It had been at least a few days since they last saw each other on that 30th May. Once Francis called for a break for an hour and a half, Jeanne's prediction rang in Arthur's head once more as he collected the papers together.

"_A few days after today, someone would 'ave said somesing to make Francis snap at zee next meeting 'e attends. At first, 'e would act like it didn't bozer 'im but during zee break, 'is 'eart would shatter." _

Arthur stole another glance and saw the Frenchman in the company of the cheery, auburn haired Feliciano Vargas. He watched them casually chat for a brief moment before tapping the papers on the table to align them perfectly.

'_E would cry until anger is left inside of 'im. Zen 'e would 'ave got access to a weapon and smash anysing and anyone in 'is path. 'E would 'ave regressed back to zee time of zee Reign of Terror; a time of unnecessary destruction and death."_

Arthur paused as he recalled the last two sentences Jeanne said that day in Francis' bathroom. He wondered what anyone could say to make the Frenchman snap if her prediction came true. Anything insulting Jeanne would make him act defensive. From what Matthew and Alfred had told him, he earned himself a sore jaw because Francis thought he was disrespecting her. The Frenchman would normally laugh and brush off insults aimed at him but what if that could cause him to become unhinged? There was so much a person could take and Francis was no different. He seemed to have a high tolerance level when it came to people making fun out of him but when things went too far, he would certainly let them know. For a man who speaks so often about love, he found it hard to forgive people who have wronged him. And this begged the question: did Francis genuinely forgive him or did he do it because he was told to?

"_I forgive you," Francis stood from the couch and gave Arthur a sincere look as he uttered those words. The Englishman blinked a few times wondering whether Jeanne had taken possession of the Frenchman. Even Alfred and Matthew sitting on the couch had to double check they were in reality. Of course Arthur knew she couldn't have possessed him or his voice would have been unnoticeably high-pitched. Again, the Englishman blinked in disbelief._

"_You forgive me?" Arthur stammered. "For what?"_

"_Everysing you've done to me. Plain and simple."_

Arthur could remember that serious expression and it wasn't one he shared with other people often. Everything about him that day was genuine: facial expression, tone of voice, and the body language. However, Francis didn't look either resentful or relieved. Arthur took another look at the conversing pair when he caught Francis walking out of the room, without saying anything to anyone on the way out. After his jade eyes followed the Frenchman out of the room, Arthur immediately searched for Feliciano who had already bounded to Ludwig. The Englishman meandered around the table to where the two were about to exit when Ludwig (being as observant as he was) caught sight of Arthur approaching them.

"Arsur?" The blonde haired German said as the Englishman finally caught up to them.

"Erm, hey Ludwig," Arthur nodded a greeting to him before turning his attention to Feliciano. "Pardon me Feliciano, but did Francis mention where he was going at all?"

"Veh? You're asking me?" The auburn haired Italian blinked in surprise since Arthur didn't normally want to speak to him.

"Yes. I… I need to speak to him urgently. You were the last one to speak to him so I was thinking you would know." Feliciano placed his index finger on his chin and thought for a moment.

"Mm… I don't think he mentioned anything specific but he did say he wanted to do some thinking," The Italian answered. Arthur thanked him before turning away and dashing out of the room into a sprint. Both Ludwig and Feliciano watched the Englishman disappear before the German turned his gaze at the Italian.

"I vunder vat Art'ur wanted wit Francis," Ludwig scratched his head while Feliciano's fixed at the oak door Arthur exited from.

"I don't know…" He murmured in response. However, somewhere inside Feliciano told him that there was reason for Arthur's question but lunch quickly pushed that concern out of his mind.

!

Arthur slumped into his chair after spending the rest of the break searching for Francis. Everywhere he looked, he was no-where to be seen. No one had seen him either which worried Arthur. He kept his eyes fixed on the door, waiting for the Frenchman to burst through them in his amorous manner or with a weapon in his hand, one of the two. One by one, the other nations dawdled through the door but no Francis appeared amongst them.

As the time for the meeting to restart approached, Arthur fidgeted his fingers by threading them together and pulling them apart again. Surely after making the effort to letting Jeanne talk to Francis that he wouldn't do anything to harm anyone else, right? It's like she said, they intervened in time so nothing bad should happen. The other nations glanced at each other wondering where the Frenchman had disappeared to when ten minutes later, the doors finally burst open, revealing the man himself. He drifted to the front of the group, tightening his tie and clearing his throat before restarting the meeting with an unusual smile that didn't seem so… smug.

"I apologise for my late return. I 'ad business to sort out," He said in a tone less lively than how he usually sounded. Arthur watched him warily as Francis sat himself down again focused on the next nation to speak.

After what seemed like hours, the nations were dismissed and went on their way to their hotels or airports. Arthur sighed and placed his papers inside his black brief case when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. He ignored them thinking it was someone who wasn't going to pay attention to him until they stopped.

"Art'ur, do you 'ave a spare moment?" Arthur recognized the French dialect and forgot Francis was the host for the meeting.

"What do you want?" The Englishman said as he scrambled the combination lock numbers on his brief case.

"I just want to show you somesing," Francis said with the same tone as he did throughout the meeting; neutral with no particular emotion attached to it.

"If it's about how big your Eiffel Tower is, I don't want to see it!"

"Why would I show you my manliness again?" The Frenchman sighed. "I simply request we take a walk togezer to my place." Arthur hummed wondering whether it was another trap in an attempt to get into his trousers, although the tone of Francis' voice didn't suggest a thing. The Englishman debated whether or not to risk following him until he let out a defeated sigh.

"Fine. I'll risk my life and follow you back to your place."

"Trust me, I just want to show you somesing."

"Famous last words," Arthur grumbled in his mind before following Francis out of the meeting room.

!

Arthur couldn't help but notice plaques on nearly every building they walked past in the city. On these plaques were names and numbers that looked like they could signify some kind of date. Some even had fresh flowers hanging from them. This bought a memory to the Englishman, when he asked what the plaques represented.

"_What's with the names on the buildings?" Arthur asked as he read the names off the plaque hung on the wall of a bakery. Francis stopped walking, not turning his head to the Englishman._

"_Zee names you're reading are zee men, women and children 'oo used to live and work in zat building before zey were snatched away by zee Nazis." He uttered despondently._

Arthur had been tempted to graze his fingers over the letters, imagining the sort of people who used to call each building their home, until they were cruelly taken away to concentration camps or wherever their lives ended. Images and sounds of people crying, screaming and struggling from the Nazi's clutches played in his mind like an old black and white film. Those innocent people who live in what they called their home, hauled out of them just because they didn't fit in the vision of one malicious dictator. Arthur wondered whether Francis ever cried after strolling the streets of Paris. After all, the memorials around Britain would provoke some melancholy in the Englishman but it was probably worse for Francis since many people's lives were lost in such an ordinary setting.

Finally, they moved out of the main city area and into the suburban area where he spotted the grand white house just down the road. That was so typical of Francis; it had to match his flamboyant personality one way or another. Strolling past the rose bushes and up the porch, Francis unlocked the door and continued through the house without saying a word. To be honest, neither of them said a single word from the place where they had the meeting to his house; which in Arthur's mind felt unnatural. Normally, Francis would have happily chattered to an agitated British man and flaunted his flirtatious personality at anyone he considered attractive, men and women. The eerie silence continued to fill the air until they stepped into the garden, and made their way towards a statue of what appeared to be an angel between two red rose bushes. Francis lowered himself to a kneeling position to which Arthur followed. His emerald eyes stared at the statue until they caught sight of the writing on the plaque under it.

_"One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. But to sacrifice what you are and to live without belief, that is a fate more terrible than dying."-_Jeanne D'Arc.

Arthur turned to Francis, who still stared at the concrete angel. "I was able to pick zis up today from zee memorial place." The Frenchman uttered, tucking some of his trailing blonde hair behind his ears. "She looks so beautiful."

"You mean you got this during the break?" Francis nodded in response.

"Jeanne really was an angel," He exhaled, almost to the point of tears but none fell. Arthur turned his gaze back to the statue, hands pressed together in prayer. He pictured her wheat blonde hair and her vibrant blue eyes on the woman's soft, oval shaped face. A sniff from Francis turned Arthur's head and without hesitation, pulled the Frenchman close, resting his head on his shoulder. Until the garden became obviously cold and dark, both nations stared at the concrete angel in a respective silence whilst in a rare embrace. Whether they could see it or not, Jeanne smiled at the pair from the heavens.

**THE END**

!

**According to Stephen Clarke's book, Paris Revealed: The Secret Life of a City, there are about 1,060 plaques around the city commemorating the names of the victims of the Second World War, and the date that they were arrested, deported, shot or all three by the Nazis. Schools often had a plaque saying how many Jewish children were removed, and the sign would specify that their abduction was the work of French policemen and militia. On the anniversary of the date the victims were taken away, the **_**arrondisement**_** will often arrange a bouquet of fresh flowers to be hung from a brass ring on the plaque. Almost half of the plaques pay homage to people killed during the Liberation of Paris at the end of August 1944.**

**And that's it. 'To Francis From Jeanne' is done. This one was surprisingly emotional to do. I didn't expect it to blossom the way it did and I'm glad about developing it further. I (hopefully) explored things that I didn't think about when I first wrote this but it's amazing how far it went from being a one-shot to being a one-shot with five bonus chapters. I almost cried at every chapter I wrote because it was had become more than a fan fic where I wanted to write Arthur being possessed by a ghost.**

**Thank you to the many people who faved this story and gave their kind comments and reviews. Keep them coming in!**


End file.
